


A Practical Man

by Drag0nst0rm



Series: Practical Men [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:51:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8202974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: It's one thing to fool the knights. After all, they get hit on the head a lot.It's another thing entirely to fool a rival kingdom's spymaster, who gets paid to notice things and who doesn't have any preconceived opinions on Merlin.It was never really a question of if Relius would notice. It was a question of what he would do about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Don't claim, don't own. Relius is not the character from Queen's Thief, despite sharing the name.

Relius was a man who dealt in practicalities. How he felt about Uther's actions was irrelevant. How it affected his liege's kingdom was everything.

His advice to the king had been to quietly take in any magic users fleeing in their direction. Quietly, so as not to attract the ire of the larger Camelot. Take them in, because they were invaluable resources who would be very, very grateful.

(There was a little girl who didn't talk and was afraid of fire but could make the most beautiful butterflies appear from thin air. That was all the magic she knew. _Invaluable?_ Jara had asked him. _Her mother is,_ he'd said. She was teasing him, of course, but weakness such as sentiment was for lesser men. And her mother had saved the king's life in the plague. Invaluable, as he'd said.)

He had wondered how Uther would manage without magic, particularly when so much of it was vengefully snapping back at him. Tatters of answers came back to him, but it came as no surprise when he learned how many citizens Camelot was losing and how small their pool of knights had grown. The kingdom was growing weak. There might be an opportunity there.

(There was a border town that would be a logical place to raid. It was plagued by a familiar whose witch had been slaughtered, and the people were starving and hopeless. If they raided, the shacks that made up their homes would burn. If they made a successful play for the land, the people - murderers, children, cowardly, struggling _people_ \- might survive the winter.)

(They could not afford a war with Camelot. They did nothing. Relius was a practical man.

He was also a wealthy one, so he didn't bother complaining too loudly when a shipment of goods from a merchant front he used went missing. He ended up with a great spy on the border out of the bargain. Relius was a very, very practical man.)

Past incidents aside, he had wondered. Especially when Prince Arthur had come of age, and suddenly everything in Camelot was going suspiciously better. None of his spies could tell him why.

And now, years later at a treaty talk with the man, he had finally figured it out.

That servant.

Normal servants did not spill food (creating suspiciously timely distractions) and remain employed. Normal servants did not steal food (every meal in order to check for poisons) and remain employed. Normal servants did not talk back (and give surprisingly good advice) and remain employed.

Normal servants also did not locate the charm some idiot had put under the king's bed, destroy them with appropriate methods, hunt down those responsible and . . . Well, Relius hadn't seen that suspicious kitchen maid recently, and in their business that meant he didn't really expect to see her this side of the Cailleach's veil.

Normal servants didn't spend their midnight hours carefully blocking the spyholes in the king's guest room. Normal servants didn't divert arrows from assassins who got too close.

Normal servants didn't have magic, particularly in Camelot, particularly if they directly served the king.

It was easy enough to see how the king had done it, of course. If the choice was burn or serve, you'd get most people's lip service although it was harder to tell how King Arthur had actually secured this level of devotion instead of a knife to the back. Large amounts of money was one possibility, certainly, but Merlin had been serving the king back when he was still a prince and while princes were hardly destitute, they didn't have free reign with the treasury either.

Far more likely was some sort of hostage situation. Spies were able to ferret out a mother in a remote village, a mentor in the castle, and a girl he'd courted, now dead. A warning to push the sorcerer back into line, perhaps?

The treaty talks dragged on. More digging was done, and he got word of more and more feats of incredible magic and espionage, and more and more tales of punishments and tragedies.

He quietly ordered a few men to get into place. That was about the time Shahira approached him.

She was young, too young for this business, and she had blue eyes folk called witching and were certainly unnerving, which was why she'd been kept away from the Camelot delegation. She wanted permission to approach the lower levels of it. As a serving maid, perhaps.

"Why?" he asked. Not accusing, not surprised, just a dry question and a raised eyebrow.

She didn't blush, she was too well trained for that, but a butterfly went fluttering past the window, and he sighed. The eyebrow went higher.

"I could find out more about Merlin for you," she said instantly. "We're the same age, and he's lonely. He'll talk to me."

"Fine," he said and turned back to his work.

He tapped his quill to it as soon as she left.

A crush. He could use this. If the boy fell for her, he would want to stay, and Relius had never wanted to hire anyone into the service of his king as much as he wanted to hire this one. He was powerful, he was smart, and he didn't want him in enemy hands.

(His spies told him the boy had handed in his resignation once, near the beginning, and that not long after a childhood friend of the boy's had died. The boy looked sad and nearly broken, and so what if this was the first time Shahira had made butterflies in quite some time, and he saw her talking to him more than she ever had to anyone before, even on a job?

She was probably faking to get information. If she wasn't, all the better. She could be bait.

Relius was a practical man.)

(It had occurred to him recently that he had been more practical before Uther had become so despotic, and he wondered if there was a finite amount of ruthlessness in the world and since Uther had been hogging it, he'd gotten roped into evening out the field. Desperation made men do funny things.

Relius was a practical man. He duly squashed the thought.)

He was seeing an awful lot of butterflies around these days. Considering it was midwinter, he might should have a talk with her about that. Some of the foreign knights were starting to give them funny looks.

The boy seemed happier, laughing and joking and talking with big, animated gestures. He caught a glimpse of a tiny, fiery unicorn in the reflection of a mirror once, and noticed that, among other things, while there was fruit to be found due to careful importing and cautious spells, it was supposed to be for the nobility, not spies-playing-serving-girls.

He got a few of his men to play interference for the two.

(No, playing matchmaker was not the most fun he'd had in years. He much preferred advising the king. About life or death, impossible decisions. And then having nightmares.

Relius . . . was sure this was practical. If you took the long view.)

King Arthur was less happy. Servants who were wooing other servants were not spending all their time revolving around him. He didn't actually do anything to stop it, but he did tease the sorcerer mercilessly, and after one particular remark, a bystander noticed Merlin went very pale and started avoiding Shahira.

Relius decided it was time to act. He caught the boy in the hall and demanded, in his best "noble" voice, that he brought more logs for his room immediately.

Ten minutes later, the boy came into his office, tired and drawn, and Relius shut and locked the door with a single spoken word.

The boy had good reflexes. He'd jumped back immediately, posture wary, hands ready.

"I mean you no harm. I just wished for a chance to talk in private about your many, many gifts."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Merlin said with a shaking smile. "I'm a rubbish servant, ask anyone."

"I have. In fact, I've asked just about everyone."

"Ah?"

"Rubbish cleaner, excellent spy, clumsy server, wonderful speech writer, insolent speaker, remarkable sorcerer. Much better than I, if it makes you feel any better."

"You're mistaken, I - "

"Saved the prince from Mary Collins, Sir Valiant, Nimueh's Afanc, Nimueh's poison, Odin's assasin, bandits, Nimueh again, the Questing Beast - Need I go on?"

"What do you want?" Still wary. Still ready for a fight.

"I want to hire you."

"I'm not interested in - in whatever it is you're offering."

"Not the first offer you've gotten then."

"What, to take over the world? Hardly."

Relius laughed. "No, no, nothing so ambitious. Although it seems there are a few of your adventures I've missed. I work as the king's spymaster, Merlin. Magic here, while not public, is quietly allowed, especially in service to the crown. You could have an excellent wage, fascinating work, a chance to earn the respect of . . . well, everyone really. You could stay here. Settle down, rise in the ranks, whatever you want. You have the potential to even replace me someday."

Merlin looked . . . vaguely relieved, like he'd been expecting to be in a fight for his life by now, but still wary that one might yet start. "Sorry. Not interested. I'm loyal to Camelot."

"No, you're not."

He stiffened. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're loyal to her king."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"No," Relius said quietly. "No, I don't think it is." He crossed to the other side of his desk. "What does he pay you, Merlin?"

"It's not about money - "

"I had my clerks check. It's not a bad sum, for a manservant, but it's nothing when compared to everything you do for him. So why do you stay?"

Merlin swallowed. "I believe in the world he'll build."

The eyebrow went up. "Based on what? All the times he threw you in the stocks? The threats to exile you? The complete lack of faith in your mentor?" He sat down and said quietly, "Freya?"

Merlin went very, very still. Relius's books started rattling faintly.

"Don't speak of her."

"All right," he said gently. "Merlin, I don't know what he's done, or what he has on you. Whoever it is you're trying to protect, we can get them out and bring them here. You can provide for them like you've always wanted to, and he won't be able to touch them ever again. Whatever spell he's got, we can break. Whatever threats, whatever _anything_ , we can fix."

Merlin's eyes went wide, and he let out a startled laugh. "It's not - it's not like that."

"Oh? So tell me, what scared you off Shahira?"

He went paler. "She's one of yours? She's working for you?"

"Currently she's on leave, which is why I was so surprised when she asked for permission to approach you and risk being spotted by those lovely knights of yours. I take no credit for whatever relationship you may have formed."

He relaxed, just a fraction.

"Why?" Relius repeated.

Merlin frowned. "You're not easily distracted, are you?"

He resisted a smile. "No."

"Destiny . . . has a way of putting me back on track when I get distracted." He smiled bitterly.

"Destiny?"

Relius had the sense he was being measured.

"Arthur is the Once and Future King."

"And you're Emrys." No emotion showed on his face. He was too used to surprises.

"That was fast."

"You don't reach this age in our business by being slow. So. Destiny. And that's why you put up with it all?"

"He's my friend."

"Really." The word was flat.

"He doesn't know." The words came out like the excuse they were.

"And if he did, he would respect you? Listen to you? Treat you as you've always wished to be treated?" The eyebrow was high now. "If he has eyes in his head, he knows you go above and beyond. If he doesn't respect you for that, I'm not sure you want him to respect you once he finds out the rest. All he doesn't know about is the power behind the devotion, and who wants to be respected for that?"

Merlin looked away. "He will," he said quietly, insistently, to no question in particular.

"You deserve better."

"I'm a monster!" he shouted. The books tumbled off their shelves. "If you knew half the things I've done - "

"I'm a sixty-five year old spymaster, boy," he said dryly. "I guarantee you I've done worse."

"I poisoned Morgana."

"If you'd like to try again, I know an excellent supplier."

"I betrayed her!"

"Before or after she'd betrayed you?"

He ignored the question. "I made a deal with the dragon and ended up releasing it - "

"Slightly more dramatic than the usual deal gone bad, I'll grant you, but the rock and the hard place deal has been around as long as the business."

"I killed Uther!"

"Intentionally?"

He deflated. "No."

"Shame."

"It's turned Arthur against magic."

He coughed. "Because as the druids can attest, he was so tolerant before."

"He saved Mordred, and he's changed the laws!" That seemed to remind him of something. "Mordred. He was just a boy, and I was willing to leave him to die."

"You can't save everyone," he said quietly. "Trust me. I've tried."

"I - " Merlin collapsed against the door. "I don't know how many people I've killed for him. And I've been betraying him the whole time by keeping this secret, and after all the betrayals he's seen . . . " He looked up bleakly. "He'll never trust anyone again. No, I don't expect him to respect me. I'll be overjoyed if he can bring himself to tolerate me."

"Or, on the other hand, great wage, no lying to your friends, providing for your mother, respect, and a budding romance."

"The first time I tried to walk away, Will died. The second time I tried, Freya died. The third time I thought about it, my father did. I think I'll stick to the path for now, thanks."

Relius stayed quiet for a long time.

"Morgana is a threat to all of us."

"Oh, definitely." Merlin jumped onto the new topic eagerly.

"I want to keep a closer eye on her. It would require a very tight focus. Someone who could report to me about that, and only that. No need to be distracted by other things." He paused. "I can make that a magically binding contract if you like."

He blinked. "What?"

"I don't always get what I want. So I have backup plans. They're lovely things, you should look into them. I drafted up these orders for Shahira, if she wants them." He passed over the papers to Merlin. "Go have a talk with her. See if you can't work things out."

Merlin hesitated.

"You didn't tell her everything either," he pointed out.

Merlin grinned. "Fair enough."

 

Relius was a practical man. He knew young love didn't always last although he did have a good feeling about this one.

Meanwhile, he went to have a talk with someone. He knocked on the door.

"Merlin, have you finally learned how to knock? How - Ah. I beg your pardon. I was expecting - "

"Merlin, yes, I know. It was about him I wanted to speak to you actually."

"What's he done now?" he asked grimly.

Relius was surprised to hear general concern buried in there too.

"I was wondering if you would pass on to him that if he's ever looking for a job . . . "

Relius went on, straight-facedly outlining a lucrative deal, listing Merlin's more recent non-magical accomplishments as glowing qualifications. He took a certain pleasure at the quiet, fierce panic and dread that were springing up by the king's mask.

So he would miss him if he left. Interesting.

 

Merlin was good. The best he'd seen in years.

But not even he could find all the spyholes. Relius had a few decades on him, after all.

Relius listened in as King Arthur stumbled his way through the repeated message. This time, close enough to get the real thing instead of the second hand report, he heard what was beneath the words.

_Don't leave me. Please don't walk away like all the others have._

And he could hear Merlin's surprised, unconsidered, "But I turned him down days ago, why would he - "

"Better question, why didn't you mention it?"

"Why would I?"

And he could hear, with no words said, a bit of respect, carefully hidden, quietly grow.

He couldn't fix everything. Couldn't save everyone. Couldn't make all of this end well.

But he believed in doing what he could.

He was, after all, a practical man.


End file.
